


The Empire & The Sun

by ladymdc



Series: Rhack Attack 🥊 [11]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crimelord, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Smut, Good Parent Handsome Jack (Borderlands), Handsome Jack & Timothy Lawrence are Twins, M/M, Murder Husbands, Organized Crime, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymdc/pseuds/ladymdc
Summary: Knowing facts as they were and not how people wished to perceive them made all the difference in the world. It took years for Jack to realize Meridian was a part of him. The city was branded into him; it was in his blood. And Jack would do anything to make it a better place.Change was inevitable for Meridian, even more so after he crossed paths with a man named Rhys.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Rhack Attack 🥊 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790767
Comments: 28
Kudos: 50





	1. Wide awake in this violet city.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a self-indulgent Rhack Businessman/Crimelord AU. 
> 
> I am drawing a lot of inspiration from Wilson Fisk/Vanessa Marianna's relationship in Daredevil (Netflix) for Jack & Rhys here. To build the plot, I plan on twisting a lot of Borderlands canon into this universe. Specifically TPS & BL2 elements. However, characters introduced in BL3 will also be present ~~because Lorelei is wonderful & I have to write her.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that helped inspire this entire idea & thus its lyrics are this chapter's title: [Violet City](https://open.spotify.com/track/4VPHxAtloVdaRWrzHJUtCA?si=HvcqEvQ4QdaF--alx-MPeA) (Mansionair).

Meridian was a beautiful city. It was  _ his _ city. 

Sure, there were cracks in the concrete, and in some places, the walls had been reduced to nothing more than rubble, but it was the only way. In order to make something better than before, the first step in that was to break it down. 

And there was still  _ so much  _ to break down before he could build again. 

_ This— _ this was what success looked like. Not the bullshit event taking place behind him. Without him, this city would have crumbled. It would be nothing but dust beneath his shoes. Instead, buildings rose up for miles. 

Jack was on the terrace at the top of his building, staring down into the bowels of the city. His path was laid out before him, burning brighter than all the stars in the heavens, and the corner of his mouth had started to curl up when someone lightly touched his elbow. 

“Excuse me, sir.” 

He remained motionless for two or three seconds, idly fingering the pen in his pocket. 

Then, Jack let it go. 

“What’s up, kid?” he said, turning toward the interruption.

The number of things Jack regretted in life was next to nothing, and the look of utter irritation that flashed in the man’s brown eyes was sure as fuck not one of them. It was refreshing, if Jack was completely honest with himself, as had been the guy’s audacity to touch him.

“I have a beverage for you.”

Jack did not move to accept the tumbler of pale yellow liquid. He merely looked at the man, taking in the details of his appearance. If it weren’t for the uniform, he might have been any of the pissants Jack had tolerated throughout the evening. And yet, he was unlike anyone Jack had ever seen.

His hair, several shades darker than his eyes, was combed back, but a couple of locks had fallen over his forehead. Then the almost aristocratic curve of his lips, the precise lines of his jaw, and his pale throat disappearing into the white collar of his shirt.

Black would suit him better.

“Do you know who I am?” Jack asked.

The guy stopped looking just past him and stared Jack hard in the eyes a moment before allowing himself to take in his features. Jack could practically feel him study the faint scar that divided his cheek, crossed through one eye, then curved down on his forehead, just missing his other eye to skirt the bridge of his nose.

“No, I cannot say that I do—  _ sir,” _ he answered, then extended the drink out to Jack.

“I didn’t order that—  _ kid.” _

The guy leveled him with a look, and Jack grinned because he wasn’t even close to irritated anymore. The response seemed to seriously irritate Jack’s guest, however. Again, his eyes flashed. 

“No, but your fiancée said you looked like you needed it, so here I am.” 

Jack laughed. “Oh, that is  _ adorable. _ You really don’t know who I am,” he said, then glanced toward the interior of the building. His gaze immediately locked onto Angel through the floor to ceiling windows. She lifted her glass in a silent toast, and Jack winked. 

“You should probably do your research when you’re scheduled to work functions like this, but for the record, that’s my daughter.”

The man blanched slightly.

“And that rock on her finger is from someone else because incest really isn’t my thing. But you, you definitely are,” Jack decided, taking a half-step closer; the guy stiffened but did not retreat. 

“I’m not interested,” he replied, tone cautiously even. 

“No. You’re not interested in being an easy fuck. If that’s what I was after, there’s a room full of those over there. But here I am, outside, sparing myself their bullshit. I plan on indulging in that for as long as possible, preferably with you,” said Jack. “So keep the drink. You probably need it more than I do after waiting on them hand and foot all night.”

He looked to the west, toward where Skywell lifted out of the horizon. The stones were a dark void against the night sky. He seemed to be wavering. After a pause, he glanced down at the drink in his hand and said: “Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m working.” 

“What are they going to do? Fire you?”

_ “Yes,”  _ he replied, his expression growing visibly impatient. 

“Alright, look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t think you’re better than this, and I’ll let it, and you, go.” 

The man openly glared at him but said nothing. Jack let the silence drag, then felt the corner of his mouth tick upward. 

“That’s what I thought,” Jack said. “I’m glad you didn’t bother trying to lie about it. And you know what? I will take that drink. It’s scotch. You don’t seem the type.”

As Jack took the glass from him, their fingers brushed. The touch lingered as the man searched Jack’s eyes. The way he stared at Jack. The undivided intensity of it. If Jack kept him near, it would only be a matter of time before he owned him; he’d want Jack and what he could give him too much to keep his walls up. 

“I can’t say. I’ve never had it.”

“Trust me on this one, sugar. I’d rather give you something you’ll actually enjoy,” said Jack, voice low and caressing. Then watched with satisfaction as a hint of color touched the hollows of his cheeks. “What’s your name?”

He withdrew finally but didn’t move to generate space between them. “Rhys.”

“I’m Jack,” he said, then knocked the drink back as though it were mouthwash. He gave a sigh that sounded like a hiss as the alcohol scorched at the back of his throat.

“Scotch doesn’t seem to be your thing either.” 

Setting the glass on a nearby table, Jack smirked. It was top-shelf and meant to be sipped. However, Angel didn’t send it his way to savor. That was Aurelia’s thing and the only reason Jack spent the money on this stuff for these events. Angel knew it too, which was what made her actual selection obviously blatant and intentional.

“It isn’t,” Jack admitted. 

Absently, Rhys nodded as he looked past Jack, back into the soirée.

“Don’t overthink this, Rhys,” he said, then dismissed some ECHO activity on his wristband. “You know exactly why you are.”

“Ah, yes, what’s doing it for you exactly, me not knowing who you are, or not caring?” Rhys asked drolly. 

“Both,” Jack said as he finished typing up a message. 

The fundraiser had been going on for hours now. Jack did not mingle. He had stood and let others mingle with him. It was always apparent which people knew him to be the hero this city needed and which were unaware. There was a delicacy in how those who did approached him, even more so with how they approached one another. Jack had observed their social interactions carefully. Looking for signs of tension and secret alliances. 

While most might not be aware of why exactly Jack was treated with such deference, this was his empire. There was a level of respect maintained for that alone. However, the subtle and seamless strategy of some was not lost on Jack. 

He had played his part for as long as he could. Then excused himself before caving and giving some idiot that taste of  _ real _ power they were after by strangling the life out of them.

“No offense,” Rhys began. “But you seem like the type who loves to have his ego stroked.” Despite the phrasing, it didn’t feel like a criticism. His expression was relaxed. Curious.

“So do you, and yet you were willing to walk away before I could even get started.” Jack drew closer so that he had to look up a smidge to meet Rhys’ gaze. “Don’t you think you’re worth it?” 

Rhys glanced away and smirked bitterly. “Point taken,” he replied. 

Jack stepped back, and Rhys looked over at him sharply. Something like triumph flickered warmly within Jack. If he did not want Jack in return on some level, Rhys’ pride alone would have already contained any effect Jack had on him.

“Listen,” Jack said. “I’ll be the first person to say people  _ like _ me have ruined this city. You know as well as I do that no matter how much money is pumped into the Neon Arterial, it won’t stop the bullets that miss their targets from continuing right on their way and hitting something else. A mother. Or a tire, making someone late for work, and then they get fired. Maybe some kid’s pet ratch.”

“Gross,” Rhys breathed, and Jack couldn’t stop his lips from cracking into a smile. 

“I’m liable to fucking agree, but that weirdo kid doesn’t deserve that,” he said. 

Rhys’ mouth quirked. “I guess that much is true.” 

Jack studied him thoughtfully for a moment. His tone had been amicable, but there was a pointed quality to the statement.

“Anyway,” Jack continued. “These people don’t care about that. They’re motivated to keep things like they are, so they equate morality with money when we both know it doesn’t work that way. There is absolutely nothing wrong with knowing you’re better than them for that, and I sure as fuck don’t fault you for assuming I’m one of them. For me, events like this are all about blending in. It’s about building up a brand.”

“To what end?” he asked.

“You’ve got to be just as bad, or worse, to smooth out the real flaws in society. Only then will all of my money and technology make a damn bit of difference.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow and said: “That’s a lot of pressure for a philanthropist merely worried about his city.”

Jack laughed dryly. “You know real change doesn’t just happen. It isn’t some grand decision set into motion by checking off items on a list, or someone would have done it by now. You’ve got to put your head down and grind out what needs to be done.”

“And take out anyone that gets in your way?” 

They always begged for their lives, pleaded with him; they used their last breaths to ask for mercy that Jack had no desire to give.

He killed because he had to. He killed because he could.

“No. Just the ones who really deserve it.” Jack didn’t waver. He met Rhys’ eyes as he said it.

Rhys took a breath, lips parting to say something, but the soft swish of the glass doors opening made Jack shift away. The movement was natural, as though Jack were simply turning to meet the interruption head-on, but Rhys was reasonably concealed after he’d altered his stance.

It was only his PA. Patrick was blond, had the personality of a robot programmed by an asshole, and behind his black-rimmed nerd glasses, his eyes narrowed. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Jack said. “He’s with me.”

There was the faintest flash of surprise in his expression. “At least that explains the choice in drink,” Patrick said, handing it over. 

“Walk away, asshole.” 

“I see that you are happily ignoring the itinerary, but you only have one more obligation bef—”

“I know. Walk away.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Patrick’s face before finally doing as told. Jack watched the plate glass slide shut behind him. Then he fingered the pen in his pocket a moment as he weighed his options. 

“I should… get back to work anyway,” Rhys said, breaking the silence. 

Jack’s eyes sought out Rhys’. “Sure. I can accept that. But only because I want to continue this another time where we won’t be bothered.”

Rhys stared at Jack a moment as though he were considering something. Jack could see the calculation in his eyes. 

He shifted closer, close enough to touch Rhys. He didn’t though. Jack just lifted the drink for him to take and kept watching and waiting. 

Rhys was startlingly handsome in the dim light. Jack had never wanted to reach out and touch another person’s face so badly in his whole life. He wanted to slide his fingers over those cheekbones and see if they were as sharp as they looked. Jack knew, eventually, he would. 

Just not tonight.

“Alright,” Rhys said, accepting the cocktail glass. “But my schedule is terrible.”

“Technically, so is mine, but give me a call, kitten, and I’ll make time for you.” Jack lifted his arm to ping Rhys’ wristband. “Besides being nice to look at, I’ve got a feeling about you, and I think it’s safe to say you’re more than a little interested as well. But who I am isn’t what drew you in, now is it? That’ll just be a perk I’m really going to like watching you enjoy.”

“Starting with dinner,” Rhys said, sounding vaguely pleased. “I’ll call you.”

“Don’t keep me waiting too long.”

“We both know the wait will be worth it.”

“Cute,” Jack said, taking a few steps backward. Then turned around and strode away. “That’s real fucking cute.”

“Goodbye, Jack,” Rhys called after him.

Jack grinned at the smile in his voice but only waved a hand dismissively before disappearing inside. Patrick found him almost immediately and guided him to the relatively unoccupied area where Angel was standing in front of a large painting of the Meridian Metroplex. It was her crowning jewel. 

At first glance, it seemed literal. Almost boring in its simplicity until one took note of how the buildings and shadows were composed of hundreds of grey-toned weapons rendered in astonishing detail. Pistols, bullets, brass knuckles, knives, turrets. And the neon lights were made of the designer drug of choice: Eridium. The various ways it could be consumed reflecting how it was the lifeblood of this city’s crime.

“Did anyone outbid me?” he asked. 

Her eyes glittered as she smiled. “Of course not.”

“Cowards,” Jack said.

Patrick made a noise of assent, then looked up from the holo-tablet. “Now that you are ready, I will go retrieve the journalist.”

“Just send him over,” Jack told him. “I’m sure he can find his way, and if he can’t, that’s his problem. But I need you to go and make sure whoever is running the staffing tonight doesn’t do anything stupid like fire the guy I was talking to. His name is Rhys.”

“Strongfork,” Angel put in helpfully. 

There was a pause as if Patrick was trying to process nonsense. “All right,” he said, then swiped through a few screens before walking off. 

Jack swiveled toward Angel and raised an eyebrow. “Trying to set me up, that’s a new one.”

“Everyone deserves to have someone to go home to at the end of the day,” Angel said. “Even you.”

He was silent for several seconds, and he sighed. Jack was not alone. He had a solid core of sharp, reliable, unfailingly loyal individuals. He had the only member of his family that had ever mattered. He had Angel. 

It was just, Jack had accepted that some things were more important. Filled that impossible void in his life with the coldness of logic, realism, and strategic decisions for the sake of meeting his goals.

“I assume you figured out why him?” she asked.

“I have a pretty decent idea based off of our little chat, though I almost took him out before having the opportunity to get there.”

“In his defense, he’d been standing there for a hot minute trying to get your attention before he touched you.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “When you get home tonight, do me a favor and tell Gaige I have a new project for her.”

Angel’s eyebrows shot up. “You want her to make him a new arm? Moving a little fast now, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. These things take time,” Jack said, scanning the room. Perhaps subconsciously seeking Rhys out, and by some stroke of luck, succeeding. 

He was with two women, both in the same uniform as him. From what Jack could tell, Rhys had been stopped by them upon re-entering the room. They were talking, seemingly focused on each other. Arguing probably based on their body language. But while the two of them were otherwise preoccupied, Rhys had been watching Jack. 

Pleased, he grinned, big and wide, and Rhys smirked before lifting the drink to his lips. 

Jack winked at him, then said: “You know me, I just want to be a few steps ahead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I love Patrick & I've missed him since finishing TCWM, so I couldn't resist taking him on another long fic journey. For those of you unfamiliar with this OC, my inspo for Patrick's physical appearance is [Chris Hemsworth from Ghostbusters](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1lnmuwjSzaMtf4eztDJlagyvBron1boyI/view?usp=sharing) 😅. Also, here's a [character sheet of him from frecklef0x](https://frecklef0x.tumblr.com/post/623635281900404736/ladymdcs-patrick-may-carry-a-gun-as-he-traverses).
> 
> ~~Thanks to Lara for the full beta on this chapter, (a rarity) but laying the foundation for a new world you're building from scratch can be a little intimidating to share.~~


	2. Tell me that you’re more than a sick fascination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how long this update took, but I had to do a lot of outlining to make sure I don't write myself into a corner. Also, I cleaned up my fic notes & tags.
> 
> Chapter title is lyrics from [Sugar Pills](https://open.spotify.com/track/6aAW8QdserZUNAXlaoZup0?si=0wGMLmGoQfO9vrTpY5s0UQ) (I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME)

Jack could be patient as hell, but that did not mean he liked it. 

In his day to day dealings, there was purpose behind it. It was about playing a game of misdirection until everything was in place. For that, acting on second thoughts, sometimes even third or fourth, was necessary. It was the most efficient way for Jack to align his opponents. Then turn and conquer them all through first impulse when it was time.

It was a war against the malice of mankind, and Jack refused to fail. He would be as watchful and imaginative as he was hard and unyielding. 

He would win. 

However, when it came to personal matters, Jack was less inclined to wait for what he wanted. He was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it. And Rhys, well, there was something about him that— that Jack had difficulty letting himself think about too carefully. 

As their time together had progressed, the tension between them shifted. Solidified. It was something Jack wanted to sink his teeth into. But it was also something he would likely  _ wreck  _ with his impulses, and not in the way he absolutely wanted to. 

There was not much that caught his interest, and that alone made it considerably harder to dissuade himself. It was easier to be ruthless. Everything felt even less consequential than usual. Because of that, Jack had considered letting Rhys go after all. No matter how pretty he was, or how appealing that instinctive draw had felt, Jack could not definitively say it was worth being distracted like this. 

Jack exhaled long and hard through his nose and tried to set it all aside. 

Again. 

Tamping down on his annoyance, on his agitated sense of entitlement. Stifling them until he was clear-headed. Sort of. The beginnings of a headache crept behind his left eye. 

“Alright, approving the agenda for the board meeting.” Jack flicked his wrist to switch the active server on his system over to Hyperion‘s. “Whi~ich isn’t for another month. Wow. I was really cutting it close there. Thanks, Pat-a-roni. Anything else that can’t wait until tomorrow?”

Patrick let the silence hang in the room long enough to make Jack look away from the holo-screen. Then he tightened the knot of his tie and said: “That depends on whether or not you would rather I clear your schedule and finish the week out for you myself.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. Sometimes he really hated how Patrick had no other hobbies besides efficiently doing his job and annoying people. He did not even appear to particularly enjoy doing either. 

It seemed impossible that he was twenty-six years old. His face was somehow unmarked by worry; young and indolent. 

He looked like an asshole. 

“Nah,” Jack said. “You’re busy enough, and I wouldn’t want to keep you from that new wife of yours more than necessary. I’m nice like that.” 

Patrick looked mildly annoyed, like his mere existence had just gotten a tad more complicated. Jack smirked and went back to sifting through his emails. 

“Look, I understand that what is putting you in such a tetchy mood is a personal matter, but—”

“Then stop talking.”

Impatiently, Patrick continued on: “Do not punish the rest of us for it. We do not control the universe. All we can do is be ready for what it brings you. However, that is impossible when you pull people into the equation and remove their files from CCA.”

Jack met Patrick’s cold blue gaze. 

“Tell me again why I haven’t fired you.”

“Because your life would become exponentially more involved, and you would hate that. You would have fired me years ago otherwise.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“You are welcome,” Patrick replied, sounding placated. He strode off toward the door. “Goodnight, Jack.”

His ECHO pinged. It was Tim.

“Tell Raz I said hey.” 

“She loves the espresso machine, by the way.” 

That made Jack’s mouth twitch up into a smile. Just for a moment. He put the call up on the secondary holo-screen.

“I’m looking at the agenda now,” Jack said, not turning his eyes from the monitor. “When do you want to send it out?”

“Friday midmorning ish. I know it’s tedious, but I’d rather make sure I’m not opening any doors you don’t want opened.” 

“No, I get it. You’re all good.” 

Tim hummed. “What about you? You all good? The fundraiser didn’t seem to pan out the way you wanted.” 

Jack swiveled his head to shoot Tim a dry look. 

He smiled. “I’m hungry. I was thinking cheap takeout. Like lo mein or fried rice. Maybe both.”

“You’ve already ordered it, haven’t you.” 

“Should be here in about fifteen,” Tim said, shrugging a shoulder. 

There was no doubt his crew had taken notice of Rhys. Watched their interactions with equal parts suspicion and curiosity as he visited openly with an outsider of no apparent value. However, his brother would not toss up the same wall of apprehension and mistrust about it. Jack’s instincts had kept them alive. It had gotten them out of the Aterial.

Instinct was something Jack had built an empire on.

No. Tim was just being Tim. Cheap takeout kept them fed when they were on their own. Got them through a lot of late nights when they were getting Hyperion off the ground. And again after Jack’s wife had died and he buried himself in work. 

It was, like, their thing when shit sucked. Plus, Tim undoubtedly wanted to give Jack a little hell about this. 

“Before you even think about starting, there better be an ass load of dumplings coming my way,” Jack told him. “I’m talking like obscene amounts.” 

“I got three orders.” Tim scrunched his brow. “Seemed like enough at the time, but I guess I grossly underestimated how much of a setback that file vanishing was.”

Jack ignored that. As best as he could, at least. 

“Nisha is taking bets on how long it’ll be before we have to take someone out over it. And not in the way I’m assuming you were originally planning,” Tim continued. “I gave it another week.” 

“No one is going to have to take him out,” Jack said. “It’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? Seems like someone catching your interest this much would be a terminal diagnosis.” 

“Congratulations, Tim-Tam! Your shit has been moved all the way down to the very bottom of my pile.” 

Tim chuckled. “That’s okay, Jackass. We’ll eat, and I’ll do what I can to help out. It’ll be like old times.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Don’t forget the low sodium soy sauce,” Jack said, then cut the feed. 

He looked at the empty screen for a long moment before switching back over to his personal servers. It was typical of Tim to hit at the center of him without doing more than skirting around the edges. 

Neither of them ever asked for things they could get by manipulation. No matter how willing an individual might be to grant their wishes. Growing up, it had been the only way. The behavior was ingrained into them. 

Jack was also not above taking or using force, though keeping on course with his plans was usually enough motivation to restrain himself. Still, people bent to his will like his reputation alone was a physical blow. All Jack had to do was be himself and let his superiority prevail. It was, in itself, an inherent warning to those in his vicinity that he wielded power and influence in brutally destructive ways.

Tim, on the other hand, treated people as though they alone were an exception. That they were interesting and desirable and deserving of his time and effort. Only people who knew Tim could feel how there was something incredibly off about the way he was charming. Could see how it was contradictory. However, with Jack and their family, the one they had built up over the years, Tim was nothing but genuine. He was just trying to help in the only way he knew how. 

It was interesting, in a sense, how they were identical in almost every possible way, and yet it was as though they were the reverse of each other. But given Jack never allowed himself the time or space to hesitate, choosing to place himself between them and whatever threat to their survival they came across, perhaps that made sense. 

Jack pulled up Rhys’ file. 

Background checks were run on practically everyone that stepped foot in his building, even if it was mostly unnecessary. Hyperion was globally recognized as a powerhouse of cutting edge technology and innovation as well as being known for its state of the art security. Potential threats were identified and neutralized long before they could even get started. It was an established fact.

His security lead, Nisha Kadam, was an expert and only hired people with real professional skills. Specialists in areas like counterterrorism, personal protection, corporate espionage, and IT— like Angel. While Jack had not been exactly thrilled about that at first, she did possess a unique gift when it came to technology. 

Anyone could run a generic background check, but Angel could piece together someone’s entire existence like magic. If there was dirt to dig up, she would find it, and she would happily hand over exhaustive documentation, knowing full well that it could destroy them. Rhys, it seemed, had merely been something unexpected. Something the fifty-seven goddamn page report could shed light on. 

At first glance, there was nothing that indicated what had caught Angel’s attention enough to warrant tossing together a full-fledged file. It seemed a bulk of it was dedicated to referenced documentation in the appendix detailing out his credit history and medical files. Which, given Rhys’ prosthetic and the associated necessary implants, made perfect sense. But  _ there—  _ right in the middle of his background summary making note of his cyberware was a footnote that simply read: _“The Atlas Effect, page 4.”_

This displeased Jack but did not surprise him. In truth, it only confirmed his suspicions. That Rhys knew exactly what Jack had been talking about that night because he had lived it. 

Jack re-evaluated what he saw as an unacceptable delay. He processed the facts. Then made a decision. 

This time Patrick did not hesitate to acknowledge Jack’s instructions regarding Rhys. If anything, he looked faintly relieved. 

Once that had been taken care of, Jack went back to reviewing the agenda. Hyperion’s place in the world was secure enough that board meetings only took place twice a year. Thank fuck. They had always been more of a formality than anything because Jack was not some idiot that needed his hand held. He knew what he was doing… well, most of the time, and Jack was not entirely above acknowledging that when Tim walked in, eyebrows raised. 

Jack gave a short laugh under his breath. “I’m not going to thank you.”

“You should. You look less like you want to kill someone.” Tim set the takeout bags on the floor and went to fetch himself a chair from the reading nook. “It’s amazing what dumplings can do for your mood. Even if it’s not quite enough to please you.” 

Jack smiled slightly as he fished out what he wanted to eat. He liked to have control, to put it in the mildest of terms. Without it, his plans would have disintegrated ages ago. Sure, he wanted Rhys on a personal level, but it would be no different than anything else. He would have to be just as slow and insidious. Strip away Rhys’ doubts and dig himself in so deep that Rhys could not separate Jack out. 

“It was enough,” Jack allowed.

“I’m glad to hear it. Otherwise, you risk packing a little around the midsection and—”

“I resent that. I’m in great shape.”

Tim dropped down into the chair he had brought over. “You resent it because it’s the truth.” 

“No, I resent it because we both know running an empire doesn’t leave a lot of time for the gym,” Jack said, mouth full. “I might not have your definition, but I don’t need it to have a starring role in plenty of wank fantasies. End of discussion.”

“Alright, alright, fair enough, but first, I need you to listen because this is important, and this is where I’ll leave it. I get why you pulled his file. I really do. If he’s clean, it’s none of our business anyway, but don’t treat this guy any different than you would anyone else. If he can’t handle you at your worst, he doesn’t deserve you at your best.”

Jack grunted, kicking his feet up on the desk and slouching down in the rich leather. The takeout container of noodles held loosely on his stomach. That last bit had been unfair. No one knew that better than Jack did. But given it was coming from his brother, he was determined to handle this with a modicum of grace. 

“Well, no shit. That’s just a matter of principle.” Jack waved his fork through the air dismissively. “Don’t give up your day job to dish out pep talks.”

“Good to know that’s worth something.” 

Jack speared a dumpling onto his fork. “Barely.”

Tim looked up from his takeout, and they shared a smile. 

As they ate, Tim didn’t do much other than offer moral support, which was perfectly fine. It was thanks to him that Jack worked the way he wanted to in the first place. Handling the front end of operations as his COO so Jack could focus on the technical side of things, i.e., the shit that really mattered, because he did not  _ do _ bullshit and disliked people in general. If he was forced to get directly involved, it meant there was a problem. 

It was precisely in the middle of one of these wonderful scenarios the following day in which his wristband went off. 

Jack put up a finger haltingly and looked down. It was Rhys. He was not sure if he was pleased or further aggravated by the timing. 

“Look, I need to take this. You have one fucking hour—  _ no,  _ don’t look at them, look at me.” 

The lead scientist on this project, Bancroft, an unreasonably white, middle-aged man with a cartoonish mustache, actually looked Jack in the eyes and grimaced. He imagined this sniveling manchild was trying to offer a small yet apologetic smile but was too rumpled and harried and entirely ill-equipped to manage even that. 

“You have one hour to fix this because I swear to god, if I have to come back down here and do it myself, you’re fired.” 

Bancroft winced. It looked like he had finally grasped the full extent of his error. “Yes, sir,” he said, nodding jerkily.

Jack smiled thinly, then shifted his attention to Patrick and Tim as the lab coat scurried off. 

“What the fuck do I pay these people for?” He arched an eyebrow as he spoke. The expression mechanical; the question rhetorical. 

Patrick shrugged as if this was a frequent thought of his own. Tim was watching an avalanche of data cascade down a nearby holo-screen. He seemed mildly amused as he took a long pull from his smoothie. It was an extremely off-putting shade of green. 

Jack turned to leave and answered the call. “Hey, kitten, not that it’s not nice to finally hear from you, but give me a minute. My handheld won’t do that pretty face of yours any justice, and I hate the conference rooms down here. Don’t hang up.” 

He did not wait for a reply; he muted the call. 

Rhys had made him wait  _ six days,  _ so the least he could do was give Jack five— scratch that, seven minutes to get back up to his floor. There, he would not have to pick a chair by deciding which one looked the least farted in. 

The ones in his conference room had temperature regulators to keep your back from getting all sweaty. The table had a built-in system that unlocked with Jack’s proximity. There was even a row of succulents in small, square, Hyperion yellow vases on a shelf in the middle of the far wall. Jack was not entirely sure what their purpose was or where they had come from, but he did not hate them. So, there they sat. 

But the real perk was Jack’s chair had a single dopamine injector to take the edge off during long ass meetings. Which was super needed after his morning. He had always been a bit more hands-on than most, but having to personally ensure every goddamn little thing was getting a bit ridiculous. 

Jack transferred the call as he settled into the chair.

Black was definitely Rhys’ color. 

As opposed to the charity event, his hair fell artfully across his forehead in a way that was clearly intentional. The barest hint of blue peeked out from his v-neck, matching the ink covering the length of his arm. 

“That was a lot longer than a minute,” Rhys said. 

“It was,” Jack agreed. “But we both know being wanted by the most powerful man in the world is one hell of an ego boost.”

The corner of Rhys’ mouth twitched as he glanced away. “Humble too.” 

“I’m man enough to admit I don’t know the definition of that word.”

Rhys snorted. 

“How was your daiquiri?” Jack asked. 

“Missing a bunch of strawberries and a tiny umbrella, but other than that, good.” Rhys smiled a little, warmed. 

“And you didn’t get fired over it?”

“And I didn’t get fired over it, though I’m not sure if I should thank you or not.” 

“Definitely thank me. You know you’d rather quit when the time comes. Plus, it would have been a bad way to end our first date,” Jack said. “Not that the wait was a good way to ramp up to the second. You’re cute, but not ‘unnecessarily be strung along for days on end’ cute. So, I’m hoping there was a reason for it.”

“I was waiting for my work schedule to solidify, and you told me I should have done my research. So.” Rhys gave a smooth shrug. “Better late than never.” 

Jack hummed. “I was expecting as much, and given that degree of yours is in data mining, I would’ve been massively let down if you didn’t put some oomph into it,” he said, and Rhys shot him a displeased look. Jack grinned at that, his cheek propped against one fist, eyes intent on Rhys. He was sort of cute when he was bitchy.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetness. Since you probably didn’t dig up much more than what I don’t mind people knowing or what I can’t do anything about, I tried really hard to extend the same courtesy. I can send you the file I’ve got if you’d like. Tell you which pages I perused if it’ll make you feel better.” 

Doubt filled Rhys’ eyes as though he were unsure about how any of this made him feel.

“I could have read the whole thing, you know, but where’s the fun in that. I’d rather get to know you over dinner. Or while you’re sitting in my lap letting me get a closer look at that ink of yours.” Jack smiled widely, salaciously. “Either or.” 

Rhys flushed. “Let’s just plan on dinner for now.”

“Sure thing, kitten,” Jack said. “That blush of yours is pretty enough to hold me over for a while anyway.” 

“Shut up,” Rhys said, color deepening. “The main reason it took me so long to call was I had to move some shifts around to free up a couple of nights.” 

“I’m sure that was a bitch juggling three jobs like you are. Tell me which one was the hardest to free up, and we’ll do that.” 

“Tuesday.” 

Jack brought up his calendar. He had a late meeting with Madam Katagawa that day, but she didn’t like having her time wasted any more than Jack did. It would take thirty minutes, tops. 

“Six-thirty work for you?” he asked. 

“It does.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up.” Jack blocked out the entire evening under the simple heading:  _ busy.  _ “When I get back to my office, I’m going to send you the number and address to my tailor along with that file of yours. I want you to call and set yourself up something.”

His expression grew offended. “I have suits,” Rhys said. “Nice suits. That I can wear to dinner.” 

“Calm down, Rhys. I really do not doubt that. I just want to see what that would look like when money isn’t an issue because it isn’t. Have I mentioned that I am, like, the richest?” Jack asked, grinning slyly. 

Rhys shook his head and looked away for several seconds. He seemed to be considering where Jack was trying to steer him and if he’d still end up there regardless of his choices. 

“Come on now,” Jack said, voice low. “Let me have this. What’s the worst that could happen?”

He turned to look at Jack. “I’m not sure,” Rhys said, eventually. “But I’ll call and set something up.” 

“Good boy,” Jack said. “Look, I’ve got a few things to take care of before I go back downstairs and fire someone, but I’ll send you that message first, alright?”

“Sounds good, Jack.”

“Until next time, sugar.” 

The call ended, and for a moment, Jack looked at the sky, watching it fragment underneath Skywell and thought about the concern around Rhys’ eyes. And really, he had every right to be worried. He was getting sucked in. 

Rhys probably wondered if it would happen no matter what he did. 

He probably wanted it as much as he feared it. 

And Jack could understand that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you giving this work a chance. I know the pacing is slow right now, but I'm basically building this backwards since it's Jack's POV & really, only he can see the board. I'm a big fan of show not tell, so I'll be using his relationship with Rhys to shed light on Jack, his past, & his empire/plans as well as foreshadow the direction everything is heading— assuming the Kingpin inpso doesn't give it all away.
> 
> Anyway. Now that I have a general foundation, things should start picking up next chapter, & hopefully, the pacing will even out pretty quickly after that.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thanks for reading ♥️
> 
> ~~[my Empire playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2W4dAgYxxmXIUn6gkO8EWx?si=bn4V4cvlRBCmrJ1p-LAa6w). Feel free to rec me songs as well. 🙌~~


End file.
